


messed up is an understatement

by alittleunstable (orphan_account)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fatherly Coulson fyeah, Victoria Hand is a narcissist, mental health clinic au, nobody can convince me otherwise, warnings for eating disorders and other mental illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1776718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/alittleunstable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mental Health Clinic AU. </p><p>Jemma had never even liked the thought of the clinic. Now, she's living there, and she'd at least like to try to follow the rules and ride out her stay. Her new room mate has other plans.</p><p>In which Skye aggressively pushes Jemma's limits and everyone has issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. but the world, it doesn't mean much to her

Jemma's only seventeen when she's diagnosed. She's standing outside in the ridiculously hot sun-Or perhaps that's just her English skin, bony fingers clasped together and a lip worried between her teeth. The grass outside the institution is dry and dreary, much like the stone building itself, almost sad to even look at. It's the building where her psychiatrist is working from, where her mother is right now, after Dr. Helbig had already seen her. 

Her fingers move to unconsciously wrap around the wrist of the opposite hand, a relieved sigh escaping her lips as she's reassured that her fingers reach all the way around, loosely even. She's worried that the muffin her mother made her eat under much duress this morning may have impacted her weight, so deep in thought about it, that she doesn't hear Leo approach. 

"Simmons, you alrigh'?" His eyes are scrunched as he tries to see her through the glare of the sun, and then instead comes to stand beside her so he can see her. "You look a righ' mess,"

"Oh, well thank you, Fitz," She grumbles, "You're so kind." Her eyes don't leave her wrists though, because she knows that when she looks up her tone will soften and she'll apologize because he doesn't mean anything by it, not really, he's just worried. But she's determined to be irritable today, because if Dr. Helbig decides to admit her-Which it really looks like she will, she wants to conserve her niceties for the staff in hopes she can charm them, distract them long enough to hide her food, do whatever needs doing. 

"Jemma, y'know that's not what I meant. You don't look well." He says softly, "I just want you to be healthy." He reaches out, his hands carefully prying her left hand from her right wrist, and refusing to let go until she looks up. "Just give it a shot, please." 

She tries to glare at him, but instead her lower lip quivers and she looks away again. "I don't want to go," Her voice shakes a little and she's suddenly enveloped in a hug, and she knows why Fitz starts crying afterwards, because she can feel his arms wrap around her all the way around, with room to spare, and she used to feel firm and alive and healthy in his arms. 

"You're gonna get better, Jem, and then Pa's gonna get us into the academy, okay? But you cannae go unless you get better. 'right?" One of his hands come up to stroke her hair, and he pulls away slightly, just to look at her, and he nods to encourage an answer out of her. Finally, she gives up on her resolve and nods back. 

"As long as you visit, frequently, Leo." She murmurs as he pulls her back into her shoulder, among a chorus of, 'Yes, yes, always,' whispered into her ear. 

"Jemma, honey?" Her mother's just stepped out, the old creaky wire door slamming behind her, making Jemma jolt backwards, wrap her arms around herself, looking to Fitz for any kind of help, but they both know there's nothing they can do. Jemma's mother is a self-obsessed, vein, vapid creature, and it's honestly just a wonder that she didn't get to this point any sooner. 

The ride back to the house to pack Jemma's things is filled by a heavy silence, and Mary, Jemma's mother, points out all the ways Jemma's ruined her pristine reputation by 'doing this to her', even before driving to the treatment facility-or well, let's call it what it is, a mental health clinic, this is a small town and there aren't the kind of resources available to separate their patients by disorder, rather they all mingle.  
...

She's shown to her room by a tall man, who instead of wearing the usual uniform, scrubs and sneakers, is wearing a suit, with his identification hanging from a lanyard around his neck that reads Dr Phillip Coulson, Psychologist. His smile is tight lipped, and for a psychologist he's not so great at hiding the very small, probably unnoticeable to anyone who wasn't examining him thoroughly, grimace that blossomed on his face at her physical appearance. She's seen the look before, but usually on a larger scale, accompanied with a gasp. She knows how thin she is, but she also knows how thin she isn't, and as long as she can feel what she believes to be a thick fat lining between her skin and her bones, she's not going to stop. 

Her mother abandons her at the front desk with a pat on the head, of all bloody things, and a muttered excuse of, 'I'm meeting a client.'. Jemma's well acquainted with her mother's planner, there's no such meeting. She isn't sure, but she thinks she sees a hint of annoyance in Dr. Coulson's eyes as he watches her leave, and he's already reached for her bag before she can, so at least that's something. She has a feeling it's because he thinks she can't carry it herself, which is fairly true, but he's too kind to say anything about it. She likes that. 

"So...How long must I stay here?" She tries to sound less accusatory and more curious, but she's never been good at uncomfortable situations and her voice comes out slow and deliberate, rather than quick and nonchalant. 

"Until we deem you healthy enough to leave." He states simply, and then gives her that same tight lipped smile again, and says, "We'll do our best to make this comfortable for you, but at the end of the day, how long you stay is up to you." 

She knows what he means by that. It's up to how much effort she puts in, and whether she actually wants to recover or not, which is now in the court of No, not at all. She feels in control, she feels clean, and even though just one wrong meal can spiral her mood out of control, most of the time, she feels like she's finally doing something right. 

"Yes, I understand that." She says after a few minutes contemplation, rather than saying anything more decisive. She doesn't really know how this is all going to pan out after all, and she's not about to lie and say she'll try if she won't. Besides, she's a terrible liar. 

They stop outside a room, and Coulson smiles a genuine smile as he knocks on the door. "Skye. It's Dr. Coulson." There's a groan from behind the door, and then a heavy thud, another groan, and footsteps towards the door. "Your room mate," Coulson supplies, as the door swings open and a cute brunette with bad bed hair stands, leaning against the door frame, half asleep. 

"What up, D.C?" She asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, obviously not at all aware of the shorter auburn haired girl, whose now very uncomfortable because if this is her room mate, she's not so sure she's going to enjoy this. Everything about her screams messy, and Jemma's not at all okay with that. 

"Skye, this is your new room mate, Jemma Simmons." Coulson gets straight to the point, but the look on his face is a fond one, and Jemma deduces that Skye is probably one of his favourite patients. It's funny, how that happens sometimes. 

Skye's eyes turn to meet Jemma's and she slowly grins. "Have I told you I love you lately?" She asks Coulson, eyes never leaving Jemma's, and Coulson rolls his eyes. 

"No funny business Skye, I'll know." 

"Whatever you say boss-man." Skye chuckles. "Hey, I'm Skye." 

Jemma's entirely too confused for this, but she holds out her hand and smiles because she seems friendly enough, "Hello, I'm Jemma." 

...

When her things have finally been placed in their room, and Coulson's walked off somewhere, Skye gets to brushing her hair and staring at Jemma. It's odd, to have someone's attention focused solely on her, especially a stranger, and she almost shrinks away from it, but she's Jemma Simmons, and she's not the kind to back away from something, so she stares right back until Skye breaks into a wide smile again. Jemma was right, Skye's messy, there are clothes all over the floor and books out of order haphazardly stacked by the closet, which Jemma didn't even want to open for fear of the mess inside. 

"So, anorexia?" Skye asks when the silence becomes too much, an eyebrow quirked and her hand grasping a hair tie to put her freshly brushed hair up. 

There's no reason to hide it, no rational one anyway, besides it wouldn't take Skye long to guess once she saw her scarred knuckles. Jemma's kind of a reason and logic motivated person, so she just shakes her head and amends, "Bulimia, actually." 

"Ah. I've got depression. Apparently." Skye's hands are in the air to wrap the tie around her pony tail, and that's when Jemma sees the thin, pink lines criss-crossing her arms. She takes an educated guess at Self-harm, and to be completely honest she herself had thought of maybe taking a blade to her skin more than a few times, but that was one of the few things she'd been too afraid to do, despite all her research and her studies in biology telling her exactly where and how deep she could cut if she wanted to, safely. She just didn't have the push. "So, Isn't it a little...I don't know, gross, making yourself vomit?" 

Jemma doesn't respond. 

"Sorry, that was insensitive." Skye realizes a moment later, "I don't really have a censor, you know? But it was still rude and I'm really sorry." Skye's eyebrows are furrowed and she looks fairly genuine, so Jemma nods.

"It's quite alright." She gets up from the rickety bed and comes to stand up, a little restless after the drive here and ignoring the ache in her calcium deprived, fragile bones. "What exactly does one do around here?" 

Skye shrugs, "Not much, really. I mean, If you're artsy than this is the place to be, but I don't really have the motivation to go to arts and crafts or music, so I usually just sleep like a sloth." She pauses for a second, and then says, "But, If you want, I can let you use my phone." She passes Jemma, shoves her hand beneath her mattress and pulls out a state of the art Starkphone proudly. "It's got all the updates and I hacked into the clinic's wifi." 

"How did you get that in here?" Jemma asks incredulously, barely concealing her excitement at the prospect of being able to speak to Fitz regularly, whenever she wanted-Or well, she still wasn't entirely sure this wasn't one of those bribery kinds of things, she doesn't know how they usually go down, but even so, this seems like a good turn to a bad day. 

"A magician never tells her secrets," Skye teases, and it's really silly that Jemma blushes a little when Skye's gaze is intensely focused on her because she doesn't know whether to break the eye contact or hold it and wow, Skye has really pretty eyes. They're a mix of chocolate and the colour of autumn leaves, the shape of almonds and full of a mischievous sparkle that Jemma hadn't noticed before. She's bad news. 

"You're a magician?" She makes her voice work, and Skye breaks the stare to chuckle and glance at her phone.

"No, I just thought it sounded cooler than my adoptive Dad works here." She admits, and then holds out the phone. "You can use it now if you want?" 

Jemma eagerly accepts, dials Fitz's number, and spends a good ten minutes on the phone to him, despite regularly checking with Skye that it was okay to be on the phone for this long, that it wasn't costing her too much, 'Free calls, Jemma. It's all good.', until much to her annoyance, she yawned, and Fitz insisted on hanging up and calling her back in the morning at some point. She hated that this was a symptom of her disorder, constant exhaustion, but as she hands the phone back, Skye gives her a concerned frown. 

"Do you want me to turn the lights off? cause i can totally do that, I'll just use my phone for light." She offers generously, and Jemma spares a thought for Skye's eyesight and the detrimental effects of staring into a bright light for hours on end, but ultimately, she just agrees and climbs into her bed. It's cold, and she knows she's shivering, but she knows she'll be colder if she gets back out, and she's gotten used to always being cold since she dropped under a BMI of 18, so she lets it go.

 

She's already asleep when Skye goes into the closet and takes out the extra thermals, laying both of them over Jemma's shaking body, smiling in satisfaction when the tiny girl stilled, and seemed to snuggle into her bed. 

...

They're sitting side by side in the cafeteria, Skye's legs kicked up on the table, despite being told multiple times to put her feet down by the staff, and Jemma sitting properly in her own seat, forcing herself not to berate the wild child she's sitting with, when Skye's eyes widen comically and she turns to Jemma, and says, "Hey, don't you eat this kind of stuff a lot where you're from?" 

"Yes, actually." 

They've been served biscuits and gravy, but they don't call it that, and Jemma was entirely too afraid upon seeing them this morning, thankfully, Coulson was kind enough to ease her in, and had specially ordered some chicken and vegetable soup for her. She's sure there are still far too many calories in it, but it's better than what she could have been eating, so she's silently grateful, even though she can't seem to make herself do more than take tiny, quarter spoonfuls at a time, and it takes her longer than that to remember not to spit it out, but she gives up completely after fifteen minutes and only three quarter spoonfuls, her mind whispering, that's enough, Jemma.

"Are you chuffed to bits about it?" Skye asks, putting on her awful english accent and holding in giggles, and Jemma can't help it, despite the terrible accent and the little bit of sausage gravy on the side of Skye's lip, she looks kind of adorable, giggling away at her supposed joke, brown hair pulled off her face in a side braid.

"Terrible," She sighs, "Honestly, I'm ashamed to have met you." She twirls the spoon around in the soup bowl, and Skye jabs her in the side. 

"Wasn't that bad," She pouts, but her eyes and her focus are on how much, or really how little, Jemma's eaten. "You might wanna eat a bit more than that. Thursday's are gym days and we wouldn't want you passing out. Like, I totally get the whole terrified of getting fat thing, but trust me, you're in no danger of that." 

Jemma can't help the little offended glare that escapes her, and she says sharply, "I'm fairly certain you're not a psychiatrist." She immediately regrets it however when Skye mimics Coulson's tight lipped smile and nods, looking away. 

"Sorry." She stares back down at her plate, and Jemma feels really bad, forcing herself to take another quarter spoonfull and swallow it, like a peace offering, and Skye nudges her with her shoulder. "See? That was pretty badass, you're kicking that soups butt." 

Jemma groans at her attempt at cheering her on and shakes her head. "You're quite the specimen, Skye." who in turn raises both eyebrows, expression a mix of confusion and incredulity.

"Uh, thanks?"  
...  
Jemma doesn't realize quite how big a deal Skye having a parent working there is, until she realizes who it is. They've just finished the gym class, but Jemma hasn't been cleared for physical activity yet due to her dangerously underweight condition, and so she's been sitting outside with a book - Moby Dick, she'd loaned it from Fitz's boyfriend, Trip, before coming here, when she glances up and sees Coulson drop a kiss on Skye's forehead and tell her to do her homework. She's doing online courses, apparently, but that's besides the point, because Skye says, "Yeah, yeah, I'll get right on that, Pops." and then walks off, only changing direction when she spots Jemma. 

"Hey, sorry i dragged you to this, didn't realize you couldn't play," She offers a small smile, tugging the tie from the end of her braid and shaking her hair out, "You should count yourself lucky though, Victoria was on the other team and she plays dirty."

"And you don't?" Jemma immediately wants to take the words back, but Skye just smirks and shrugs. 

"Most of the time." It's said with a wink and then Skye's fanning herself. "I gotta take a shower, I'll meet you back in our room?" 

She's ashamed to admit that she watches Skye leave, over-analysing the entire interaction, as per usual. But at least this time, she's only two hours away from a therapy session with her pysch to go over it with.


	2. this disease will make your heart explode

It takes Jemma all of six seconds to realize she’s not the only one awake at this obscene hour. She sits up, waiting out the dizzy spell, before focusing her gaze on the bed across from her, where Skye’s lying on her side, the screen of her phone illuminating her face as she struggles to hold in her laughter. She’s watching YouTube videos, and Jemma’s not even surprised in the least. She’s noticed that most of Skye’s time is spent on the internet, and she’s about twenty percent sure she saw the FBI website up on her phone before she fell asleep, but she can’t be sure and she’s not about to make a fool out of herself by asking about it.

"What’s so funny?" Her voice sounds dry and sore and she winces at the speed in which Skye rolls over, eyes wide and apologetic. Her hair’s actually pretty tame, which means she hasn’t been asleep yet, because she tosses and turns until her hair resembles a bird’s nest usually.

"Shit, did I wake you up?" She whispers, glancing back at the flashing time on the electric clock in between them (The one that was supposed to set off a high pitched, angry sounding noise when it was time for them to get up and go to breakfast) that states clearly that’s only four in the morning. "I’m not used to sharing the room." 

"It’s fine." Jemma murmurs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and ignoring how cold her hands feel against the warm skin of her face, waiting until Skye is looking back at the screen to pull the too-big sheepskin gloves from her drawer and slide her fingers into them. She doesn’t want to worry the other girl. "I wake up at odd times occasionally. Part of the disorder. Can you see my book?" 

"Ooh, you gonna read with the light off?" Skye teases as she climbs out of her bed, stumbling rather heavily over to the vanity and picking up Trip’s copy of Moby Dick, "How brave of you. And to think, just yesterday you were so timid-" She doesn’t get to finish what she was saying because Jemma takes the book and thwaks her with it, smiling against her better judgement when Skye pouts and gets back into her bed, mumbling, "Rude." 

Jemma doesn’t hear her speak again until she turns on her reading light, a dark blue hue lighting up her corner of the room, and Skye groans. 

"That’s cheating." 

She just rolls her eyes. 

…

Breakfast is just a touch easier this time around. Skye’s still hanging off the furniture, and Jemma still doesn’t bother telling her off when she flips Grant Ward’s back the finger after he makes a snide comment, but when she sees what her meal consists of, she feels a lot more relaxed. It’s three slices of multigrain toast with mini packets of condiments off to the side- All high in calories, but she likes her toast plain, which they probably weren’t expecting. Come to think of it, her mother probably hadn’t even remembered any of her likes or dislikes or even her allergies when filling out her paperwork. Lovely. 

After she’s taken two bites, Skye finally glances over and then looks horrified. Literally, horrified. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted and she’s just staring at the auburn haired girl.

"Are you eating that without butter?" She asks, swinging back on her chair precariously, and Jemma just sighs. 

"It tastes cleaner this way." She assumes this will be explanation enough, but Skye still looks perturbed. "Healthier." Skye’s look doesn’t falter. 

"For a health freak, you might wanna remember that you’re dangerously unhealthy." Skye grumbles, and then glances over, "So you don’t like jam and stuff or you won’t eat it?" 

Jemma shrugs, but settles with, “Well, I don’t have anything against Jam, it’s quite nice actually but I really shouldn’t be having it.” 

Before she can stop her, Skye dumps a blob of jam onto the centre of Jemma’s toast, and despite Jemma thinking rather darkly about how bloody insensitive and irritating Skye could be, she doesn’t stop her from then spreading it across the toast. Thinly, to Jemma’s relief. And while yes, she could have just gone on to the next piece instead, taken a few bites and then headed back to their room to sulk, she actually really did want to try it, now that it was out of it’s packet and on the warm toast she could smell the strawberries, and honestly, it was too tempting. She knew she was going to hate herself later, or worse, but she still took a bite. 

Unfortunately, one bite turned into another, and then another and before she knew it she’d practically inhaled it, and she’s staring at her empty hands in horror. Skye opens her mouth to congratulate her but Jemma shakes her head, grabbing her water bottle and jerking out of her seat, murming a hurried, “Excuse me.” under her breath. 

She should have known Skye wouldn’t leave it at that, she was too obnoxious to. She’d only just made it to the bathrooms before Skye came rocketing in after her and grabbed onto her arm, somehow firm and gentle at the same time. 

"Please don’t. I know I shouldn’t have-I mean, i took it too far. You were right yesterday, I’m not a pyschiatrist, I just get these things in my head and I always act before I think and I ruined it for you. I suck. But you still shouldn’t." Skye’s eyes are wide and pleading, and Jemma wilts under her gaze, feeling the self hate burning away at her stomach and yet still understanding Skye’s words. It also doesn’t help that Skye looks too honest while saying the words, ‘I suck’, but she’d work on that later. Logically, she knew that someone didn’t just slice themselves up without hating themselves a little bit, but Skye’s demeanor took her by surprise and made her forget that. Which was probably all part of Skye’s plan, now that she thought of it. 

"Don’t…Don’t do that again. Alright?" She asks softly, hand on her now aching belly, and Skye nods hurriedly. 

"Yeah, no, never again. I’ll ask first, at least." She waits a minute into the silence before tentatively asking, "We cool?" 

"Yes. You and I are just fine, Skye." 

They sit there, in a comfortable silence, a wince occasionally taking residence on Jemma’s face due to the discomfort of what feels like a full belly, and Jemma pretends she doesn’t see Skye staring at her.

…

Her second therapy session isn’t with her assigned Psychiatrist, because apparently Ororo Munro’s nephew was sick so she took time off. Jemma hadn’t cared so much about that, after all she’d only had one session with the woman and she’d found it hard to connect, but the problem she did have was more with who her replacement was. 

One Phil Coulson. Who kept giving her these knowing looks all the time, like he knew all her secrets and everyone else’s too. She wondered how Skye could possibly deal with that, It was already getting under Jemma’s skin. Even so, she did respect the man, after all it took a lot of work to get to where he was, head of the clinic, a Psychologist, a father. He had a lot to be proud of. 

"So, Jemma, I’ve got some basic notes from your last session. Would you like to pick up where you left off or start over?" Noticing her hesitation, he added, "I’d like to do whatever makes you most comfortable." 

"I…Then perhaps we could start over? I don’t much like the idea of picking up a rather dull conversation." She realizes she just insulted Dr Munro moments too late, and her eyes widen comically, but Coulson’s smile has only widened, and the same cheeky sparkle that she’d seen in Skye’s eyes is shining in his. 

"Ah, yes, Ororo sometimes tends to drone." He joins in, smiling when she nodded, relief evident on her features. "So, how about we start with something simple. How’s your relationship with your mother?" 

Ororo hadn’t asked about that yet, so Jemma hadn’t actually had time to prepare her answer, instead she just manages to admit, “Non-existant. She interacts more with her secretary than she does me.” 

He doesn’t look surprised. 

…

She leaves the therapy session feeling surprisingly lighter, and immediately heads back to her room, only to pause outside at the sound of arguing. Skye’s shouting something about a lie, and there’s a boy in there with her, but he falls silent after that, and then the door is shoved open and he storms out. Jemma’s pretty sure she’s seen him around before, Miles something. She pokes her head in the door, and spots Skye sitting on the end of her bed, elbows on her knees and her face buried in her hands. She doesn’t seem to be crying, but Jemma’s not too sure, so she closes the door behind her and makes sure to put extra effort into her footsteps, knowing that her body mass sometimes meant she was a silent approacher. 

"Are you alright, Skye?"

"Yup. I’m just fucking dandy." Skye’s words are only slightly muffled by her hands, but she lets out a huff and raises her head, cheeks red with anger and eyes only slightly watery. "He just…He thinks he can just walk in here and he’ll always be welcome, no matter what he’s done, y’know? It just, ugh. It really gets me." She gets up and kicks a book, and Jemma tries to hold in her little squeak of dissaproval because that’s her book, not Skye’s. 

"If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly did he do?" She knows she should tread lightly, but she’s curious, because as far as she’s seen, Skye’s pretty chill. A bit unruly and a miscreant if she ever met one, but mainly relaxed. It’s a big difference. 

Skye sighs, runs a hand through her hair, and then purses her lips. “He made me a promise and he broke it.” She says vaguely, and Jemma knows that’s the best she’s going to get so she nods.

"I do wish we could make tea. Tea is perfect for making people feel better." She says, almost forlornly, evoking an amused grin from the brunette beside her. 

"I’ve got diet pop?" She offers, and Jemma lights up a bit because she really likes pop, and she can actually drink it if it’s diet, so this is something that actually can’t go wrong.

…

They threaten her with a feeding tube at tea time. She’s been staring at the roast potatoes for twenty minutes now, and finally Skye leans over and whispers, “It’s okay, you know? I don’t know what you’re going through but maybe they’ll let you get away with only having a few for tonight.” she knows that they won’t, though, and finally after another ten minutes, Coulson comes over, grabs a chair and slides it over to join their table. Skye brightens whenever he’s around, Jemma’s noticed, and she hates herself for envying that a little, because that’s how things should have been for her. 

"Jemma, I’ve got to be honest with you right now," Coulson says, his expression apologetic, "You’re at serious risk, and if you don’t start eating your meals, we will have to put you on a feeding tube. We started you off easy with the soup, but even an intake of two thousand calories isn’t enough right now. It’s the only alternative, and it’s not fun, as I’m sure you’re aware." He pauses, doing that weird staring into your soul thing, and then adds, "For either of us." 

Skye reaches over and rubs Jemma’s shoulder. “Can you do it?” There’s no judgement in her voice, just hope and concern and they’ve only known each other for two and a half days and yet she already feels like they’re friends. It certainly seems that way, at least. 

"I’ll try. I certainly can’t make any promises as there are quite a lot of calories in this and If I’m entirely honest I’m afraid to finish it." Jemma murmured, eyes glued to the buttered, crisp roast potatoes before her. At least one hundred and fifty calories each. 

"We’re not asking you to recover in a single day, Jemma," Coulson smiles soflty, "We’re just asking you to try. We’ll be right here." 

It’s a humiliating hour long struggle but she gets four of the six down before she gives up. Thankfully, it was enough of a start that Coulson’s satisfied, and he squeezes her shoulder in comfort before he takes his leave, shooting Skye a meaningful look as he goes. 

…

Visitor’s day is the most exciting day of the week and Jemma finds herself practically bouncing about their room, smiling and babbling and she’s fairly sure she saw Skye’s eyes go blank when she started to talk about the night- night gun - A concept she and Leo had come up with that had earned them the attention of the Academy to begin with, or rather, the components of the night night gun. Specifically the dendrotoxin part of the babble, is when Skye suddenly becomes expressionless and Jemma realizes she isn’t following whatsoever and blushes. 

"Sorry, I get over excited sometimes."

"Oh, no it was cute, just didn’t know you were so…science-y." Skye shrugs, and Jemma’s not got any time to over analyse that sentence before Coulson’s knocking on the door because Leo is here. He conveniently doesn’t mention the absense of Jemma’s mother. 

She notices Skye following along behind her a minute later, and feels her mood brighten even more, “Who’s coming to see you?”

Skye just looks like she couldn’t care less really, and then says, “My Mom. She works a lot. Homeland Security.” She brushes it off like she doesn’t give a shit but Jemma can tell there’s something off in the stiffness of her shoulders and the jerk in her steps. 

"She and your father-?"

"Aren’t together. Not anymore." Jemma’s pretty sure she can hear a hint of resentment there, but she doesn’t say anything. She knows when to leave well enough alone, a trait that definitely does not run in her family. She forgets about the exchange almost the instant she spots Fitz waiting at the front office, and he hasn’t spotted her yet so she takes full advantage, throwing her arms around him from behind and whispering excitedly, 

"Guess who?" 

He laughs, and she’s grinning too, even as he says, “Wouldn’ hae a clue, do I know you?” and spins around effortlessly, considering she’s a waif of a girl and there’s no way she could have held him in place if she tried, and he beams the second he sees her and pulls her in even tighter, his arms wrapped all the way around her and she feels more than she usually does. Probably because she feels just a tad bit more awake than she usually does, what with the strict eating she’s been attempting. “You look a bit better, Jem. Colour in your cheeks.” He says as he releases her, reaching up to pinch her cheeks in teasing, but she jerks away quickly, and glares at him. 

"I’m not a child, Leo." She pouts, and he just grins again. A stupidly cheerful grin, and that’s when she notices that they aren’t alone, and Trip’s leaning against the desk behind him, a pearly smile on his face from watching them interact. 

"C’mere girl," He chuckles, spreading his arms when he realizes she’s spotted him, and she throws herself into them happily, squeezing him as tightly as her bony arms can, "Was real worried about you," He admits after a moment, pressing a kiss to her hair, and she nods into his chest.  
"I know; I’m sorry." It’s all she can really say in response, because she’s not really sure what to say. Growing up, nobody had shown her this manner of concern apart from her father, but once he passed away when she was seven, that went away with him. It wasn’t til she met Fitz that she got that again, and by that time she was eleven and had a hard time adjusting to it, and even then, it was just one person. She was quite honestly surprised when, after being friends for a while, Trip and Fitz started dating, and even more surprised when he didn’t see her as competition; rather he looked out for her as an older brother might. 

"Snacks," Leo moans finally, and Jemma pulls away from Trip and rolls her eyes, but she can’t bat down how happy she is to see them both so she doesn’t look convincing at all. "I need food, Jemma. Sustenance."

They head over to the snack table, and that’s when Jemma glances around and catches Skye’s eyes, even as the girl is standing awkwardly in front of a stiffly presented asian woman, who Jemma presumes is her adoptive mother. The woman’s talking, but Skye’s just looking at Jemma, and Jemma can’t help but stare back because Skye’s got this way of making her feel like they’re the only people in the room. It must be in the way she looks at her, the tiniest hint of a smirk on her lips and almond eyes bright with mischief. It takes her a second to stop staring, because for one thing she probably looks very odd, staring at her, and for another, she doesn’t approve of Skye ignoring her mother, considering the fact that if her own mother ever gave her an ounce of attention, she’d be rapt. But then again, she reminds herself, it’s a different situation, and she has no right to judge. 

"What you lookin’ at?" 

She jumps at the question and gives what she’s sure is a very awkward smile to Trip, and fumbles over an explanation. “Oh, nothing, nothing important. Certainly nothing incriminating.” In her head, she’s banging her face against a table in exasperation towards herself, because why the hell can’t she lie? Ever? She supposes she’s never had to lie, for one thing she always followed the rules, and for another, if she ever did anything that could be perceived as wrong, her mother certainly never noticed, let alone berated her. 

"Uh huh, are you sure you weren’t checking out tall and cute over there?" Trip pushes, and Jemma scowls at him as Fitz’s head jerks up from his paper plate stacked with food and swerves around to locate who Trip’s talking about. Yes, exactly what she needed, Fitz teasing her.

"Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. I’m in an Asylum." Jemma strains the last word, but the boys are just smirking at her now and it’s pointless.

"It’s a clinic, not an Asylum. An’ she is cute." Fitz points out, and Trip nods to emphasise his boyfriend’s point. She wonders when they became so in sync, how had she not noticed before? Had she really become so self absorbed?

"I’m not saying she isn’t, but-"

"Ah ha!" Fitz has no sense of sensible volume today, because now everyone is staring at them, including Skye and her mother, and Jemma just wants to hide away. 

"Do you want to see my room or not?" She snaps quietly, and the boys get the hint because Fitz slips some crackers into his jacket pocket and nods, looking at least a little bit berated.

"Sorry for embarassin’ you, Jem." He whispers to her as he follows her down the hall, and she hides her smile because sometimes it’s just nice to watch him squirm instead of the other way round.

…

Skye claims to be sick the next morning, after spending the last of the day yesterday in a melancholy silence much to Jemma’s concern, cocooning herself in her sheets and pitifully murmuring, “Just tell them I feel like shit, okay?” when Jemma asks what’s wrong, and she feels so bad for her that she just awkwardly pats where she assumes Skye’s head is under the blankets and then leaves the room. She doesn’t even bother to comb her hair as she knows that as usual, it will only end up with her losing a good deal of hair, and she can’t really afford to do that considering she hasn’t any hats and they aren’t flattering to her profile anyway. Also she’s kind of rooming with a really cute girl who does have all her hair on her head, so there’s that. 

She’s worrying about what they’re serving for breakfast this morning when she slams into somebody and falls to the floor. The fall hurt more than she’d like to admit, and she knows it’s going to bruise, badly. Hell, she could fall on a cloud and she’d probably still bruise. The guy she slammed into looks probably twenty-five, with dark unruly hair and his eyes nervously dancing between his feet and her, and he holds his hand out only to rethink it and pull it back uncomfortably.

"Sorry, I uh, sometimes don’t look where I’m going." He explains, somehow looking shy and self-deprecating at the same time, and Jemma just gives him a kind smile. She hasn’t seen him around before, but then again she hasn’t really associated with anyone other than Skye, so it stood to reason that she’d just never noticed him. Either way, she’s not about to be rude to someone whose in the same figurative boat as her.

"It’s quite alright, no harm done." She gets to her feet and offers her own hand, this time. "I’m Jemma."

He stares at her hand for a moment before seeming to snap back into reality, reaching out and very gently shaking it. “Bruce.”


	3. a blood red bracelet is all that's feeding me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning that this chapter could possibly be very triggering to someone in recovery or currently suffering from an eating disorder.

Bruce doesn't talk much, but from what Jemma gathers, he's not too keen on divulging his reason for being here, and she's not going to push the issue. He does, however, have a passion for physics that excites the part of Jemma's brain that's constantly in a state of _**Science!**_ and they chat happily through breakfast, relieving the nerves that she had regarding the food, which turned out to be oatmeal. She could deal with oatmeal. As soon as they've finished he mentions having his therapy session in ten minutes, and with a sigh of disappointment, she nods.  
  
"Yes, of course. I would hate to keep you." She can't keep the pout from her lips, though.  
  
"Jemma..." He pauses, as though he's thoroughly double checking whatever he's about to say is socially acceptable (She's noticed he does that a lot,) before finishing with, "We could always talk again. It was a welcome reprieve to be able to talk shop with someone, it's been a long time." He says the words with hesitance, as though he's waiting for her to blow him off, but she nods eagerly.  
  
"Yes, It has been rather nice, hasn't it?" She beams at him, and his returning smile is wry and earnest. He looks like he's about to say something, but then just gives her a nod, and turns away. She smiles at her empty bowl, and then realizes rather abruptly that this place is starting to feel more like home than home does, and it's only been four days. Hell, if she keeps going like this she'll probably cry when her mother shows up to take her home. She almost feels like maybe, she could just not recover, and then her mother would never come, but that feels too much like taking advantage of Coulson.  
  
She's standing up, bowl still warm in her hand - She's kind of awed by how distracting Bruce had been, she'd just been taking tiny bites between sentences and still, she'd finished the whole bloody thing in just under an hour - when her foot gets caught on the chair leg and she falls hard, the only thing she sees before everything goes dark being the bowl smashing and Maria Hill jumping out of her seat.  
  
...  
  
She dreams of bones and dim eyes and even in her dreams she wonders what she's doing, where she's going, how she's getting there. She doesn't understand herself anymore, can't control herself, everything is hard and exhausting and she'd much rather just sleep for hours and hours, only waking to look in the mirror and admire her handiwork. But the world doesn't work that way and she's stuck in this rut of living and eating and _dealing_ with it, only she's not. That's why she's here, because she's _not_ dealing with it. Not really.  
  
When she comes to, Skye's perched on the chair at her bedside like some kind of monkey, feet on the seat and hands gripping her knees, looking dishevelled as ever. Jemma had a hunch that she wasn't really sick, and that was proven by the healthy glow of her skin and the way she seemed too alert for someone who was ill. Her hair's a mess, strands having fallen from her loose bun framing her face, eyes wide and full of concern, and she's holding Jemma's book. Well, Trip's book, technically. Jemma is about to tell her off for pretending to be unwell when she remembers what happened, and that's also when Skye's eyes meet hers and the other girl jerks straight.  
  
"Jemma, hey, how do you feel? Does your nose hurt? It looks pretty bad." Skye winces, and then seems to realize how quickly she's spoken because Jemma just blinks owlishly at her and then says,  
  
"Sorry?" Skye bites her lip, and then pulls out a hand mirror from who knows where, passing it to Jemma sympathetically. Her nose is dark blue and inflamed, but if it had bled, there was no sign of it now. The air is suddenly heavy and she takes a shaky breath, and then nods. It wasn't like she'd been all that attractive to begin with, in her opinion, but this really was the icing on the metaphorical cake.  
  
"Right. Okay." She murmurs to herself, "I look awful." A voice in her head whispers, _But hey, when don't you?_ and she quickly smothers it, buries it in the back of her head because she doesn't know if she wants to listen to it anymore, thinks maybe it isn't helping her after all.  
  
"No, It's really not that bad, It's fine. In a week it'll be gone." Skye attempts, and then a cheesy smile spreads across her lips, "Besides, you've still got that hot librarian thing going for you."  
  
Jemma chokes on a laugh that sounds on the verge of hysterics, and she grabs her pillow and tosses it at Skye, hoping the other girl doesn't see the blush spreading across her normally pale skin. She feels hot and cold at the same time and is torn between pulling her blanket over her head to hide or kicking it off, before she just settles with neither, and hesitantly meets Skye's eyes. "That was very...inappropriate." She says finally, though she can't find it in herself to sound truly admonishing, and Skye seems to notice that rather than what she's actually saying, and just winks.  
  
"You liked it." She teases, and before she can get even redder in the face, somebody knocks. Skye, for some reason, jerks ramrod straight and looks a little nervous if anything. "Come in."  
  
Coulson strides in and props himself down on the edge of Jemma's bed, giving her one of his strangely knowing smiles, and says, "How are you feeling? that was quite the fall you took."  
  
Jemma doesn't even realise that he's staring at her wrists, doesn't even realise that her fingers have curled around one wrist, reassuring, _It's alright, because you're still thin._ She didn't even hear the voice this time. So she simply responds, "I'm well. Apart from looking disfigured."  
  
Skye scoffs at that, and protests, "You look fine, Jemma."

She's about to respond when she feels gentle but calloused fingers tugging her hand from her wrist, and Coulson holds on for a second longer, maintaining eye contact, despite the confusion and anxiety clearly shining in her eyes. "It's alright. You're okay."

 _You're okay_. She doesn't know why these two words, these two, in-descriptive, could-mean-anything words, calm her down. Maybe it's just because he noticed, maybe it's because for some silly reason, she thinks he might even care. She just manages to nod, and a hesitant smile appears on her face.

"Thank you, sir." She murmurs, and his hand moves to rest on her knee for a moment, before he gives her a gentle squeeze and stands, straightening his suit.

"Alright, I've got a session. I'll see you two later on." He pauses in the doorway, and then glances back, "I've asked Victoria to bring your lunch in. Let me know if she causes any problems."

Skye's eyebrows are raised and she's staring at the doorway in incredulity, and it piques Jemma's curiosity. "What? What's wrong?"

"Victoria Hand is a bitch. Like, possibly the biggest bitch you've ever met." Skye frowns, "Why would Coulson ask _her_ to help you?"

She can't be that bad. No, Jemma's met some truly awful people- Her uncle, John, for one- and some of the boys in her neighbourhood who used to call Fitz 'gayboy' and 'faggot' and then beat him up. That was before Trip though, nobody seemed game enough to try anything on him. She was relieved, for that, because she was quite a nosy friend, naturally, and Fitz was the closest thing she had to family, so she may have read his diary. May have cried a bit, too. She'd noticed he was depressed and she was only checking that he wasn't doing anything stupid, she couldn't bear the thought of living without him. It turned out that he was excellent at coping, unlike her. It got to her sometimes, how he had it worse than her and yet she was the one locked up in a clinic. It didn't make sense, his risk factor was so much higher than hers. Her analytic mind couldn't understand it.

"I'm sure she's not that bad," She says finally, and gives a pathetic attempt at a shrug. "It really doesn't matter so long as she brings the food," _Poison_ , her mind corrects, and she swallows the lump in her throat because she should have expected this. She should have known it wouldn't be smooth sailing, despite how easy the last few days had been.

"I guess," Skye grumbles, and then starts fiddling with her phone. "Did you wanna call your friend?" she offers, and Jemma suddenly realizes why Skye's looking at her like that, because her eyes are glassy with unshed tears and she looks a proper wreck.

"Oh, yes. Please." Skye hands over the phone, gives her this kicked puppy look, like maybe she wished she could do something, but didn't know what to do. It was a sweet look. Cute.

"I have a thing. That'll take me fifteen minutes. Yeah." Skye says, trying to lighten the mood again with a gentle elbow in Jemma's side, so she fakes a smile and nods and when Skye leaves she lets out a breath and dials her best friend's number. 

"Tha' you, Jemma?" His voice is thick and she wonders for a second if she's interuppted something, because that's definitely Trip's voice in the background.

"Yes, it's me." She says anyway, because she needs to. Her lips burn to say more but she pauses, to gage his reaction.

"You soun' upset. Wha's wrong?" She bites her lip, trying to figure out how to put her feelings into words, before she just says,

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Leo." And there's a pause on the other end, and then a scuffle, and then Fitz's whispers,

"You wan' me t' put you on speaker, or just you an' me?" She ponders it for a moment, before deciding that while she adores Trip, and he adores her, she'd feel much to overwhelmed by speaking to them both. It doesn't matter though, as soon as she hangs up Fitz will fill Trip in. He always does.

"You and I," She answers, matching his volume.

"'M goin' out for a sec, babe." He says to Trip, and she hears a call of, 'Tell Jemma to stay strong, that girl's got a lot of strength left.' and then she hears a door open and shut and assumes that Fitz has retreated to his bedroom. "So, wha' happened, 'cause I know somethin' must've."

"I hurt myself," She mumbles, "My face looks terrible, Fitz. And I keep having these thoughts, and they won't go away, I think I'm losing my mind," She knows how pathetic she sounds, but there's an exhale on the other side that sounds a bit shaky, too.

"You can' listen to them. Those thoughts...they ain' righ', Jem." He stresses, "Christ, I wish this wasn' happenin' to you." His voice wobbles and she's pretty sure he just sat down.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don' apologize," He sighs, "It's no' your fault. Your bloody mum, I wan' to choke that woman."

She can't hold the giggle that escapes her lips at the thought of sweet, gentle Fitz trying to hurt someone. No, she can't picture it.

"I wish I wasn't stuck in here," She says instead, "I miss you. It's strange not being around you all the time. Skye's lovely, though..." She trails off, and Leo latches onto it, just as she knew he would.

"Oh, you've been spendin' a lot of time with her, then?"

...

Victoria hand is an exhibitionist if ever Jemma met one. She practically slams the door open and swoops in, holding a tray and looking thoroughly unimpressed. She's got red streaks in her hair and thick red lipstick, and she reminds Jemma of the girls who sat alone in the courtyard at her school, all with a different hair colour and bright lipstick, as well as a boyfriend to show for it. She didn't like them very much, so she doesn't think she'll like Victoria very much.

"If anyone should be bringing anyone food around here, it should be you to me." She snaps, even as she's handing the tray over. Jemma blinks but Skye just lifts a shoulder as if to say, 'I told you so'.

"Uh...Thank you, I suppose?" Jemma's nose scrunches and a shot of pain flickers through her, but she ignores it in favor of looking beyond befuddled.

"You owe me one." She says, and then leans against the bedframe. "What's your deal anyway?"

"Sorry, my 'deal'?" She frowns, and Skye chuckles behind her.

"She means your disorder, dork." Skye teases. 

Jemma's noticed that Skye likes to gesture to make a point. It's kind of adorable, but in this case, when Skye's outstretched hand falls flat, it lands just centimetres from Jemma's back, and Skye's eyes are seemingly glued to the distance between them, before she hesitantly reaches out again and rests her hand against the closest part of Jemma. She guesses it's meant to be comforting, but it feels like the place where Skye's fingertips touch her spine is on fire. It's pleasant but not at the same time.

She likes it but she doesn't, at the same time.

She's not sure what to make of that.

"Oh." She only barely gets her lips to form the word, and then she blushes a little at Victoria's intense, judgemental gaze. She's excrutiatingly calculating.

"'Oh', what?" Victoria scowls, "I haven't got all day."

"I have an eating disorder," She frowns, and it looks like she's definitely bored Victoria with that one because she nods, slowly, and then leaves the room, calling behind her,

"I'll be cashing in that favour sometime soon. Don't forget."

Skye's hand hasn't left her back and she has the strongest urge to lean back into it, to feel more of Skye pressed against her, but that would be wildly innapropriate, and she's got to draw the line somewhere. She can flirt, but nothing can come of it, not really. Especially considering they were both self destructive and rooming together. It wasn't a good idea.

...

She's lying awake, staring at the ceiling and feeling unsettlingly full, when Skye rolls over on her own bed and switches the lamp on.

"What are you thinking about?" She asks smoothly, hair loose and wild and Jemma has to fight the need to reach out and touch it, untangle it with her fingers and tie it back. She wonders what it would be like to brush Skye's hair, it's so long and soft and she's noticed it smells like pineapple. Exotic. It suits her. It's also intoxicating and the more Jemma eats, the more her emotions return and it feels like too much to even like Skye as a friend, let alone more than that.

She hadn't been thinking much other than the ending of Moby Dick wasn't as satisfying as she hoped it would be and why on earth did she have a talent for picking books that upset her. She doesn't really think that's conversation material though, so instead she mumbles, "I feel heavy." It's true, though. She feels too heavy, like the Whale at the end of Ahab's harpoon, pulling him down. She doesn't think that's the message she's supposed to derive from the book. Not in the least.

"You don't look heavy." Skye muses, "You look like a little tiny small thing." She even uses her hands to show how small she apparently is. She giggles.

"No, I don't."

"You do. I had a dream that you floated away and I couldn't pull you back down the other night," Skye says nonchalantly, but Jemma gets the feeling that there's a lot more meaning in her words than what she's getting at face value.

"That sounds sad." She pouts, and Skye scoots closer to the edge of her bed, closer to Jemma's, and holds her hand out.

"Yeah, so you know, we better hold hands so you don't float away when I go to sleep."

She has a strong feeling that Skye's flirting with her. An even stronger feeling that she likes it. She scoots to the edge of her own bed, her fingers meet Skye's, and she closes her eyes.

"I hope I don't drag you down, though."

"You won't."

The lamp is switched off, and neither of them feel the need to say anything for a while, until Jemma can hear the sound of Skye's oddly cute snoring, and she falls asleep too, seconds later.

**Author's Note:**

> So this has developed a life of it's own and I already have two more chapters written. Updates will be weekly and also let's play a fun game called give me feedback and I'll be happy :)


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